


You Don't See The Way He Looks At Me. (Claudia - He's Ten Years Old.)

by CescaLR



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Gen, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 07:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Damnatio Memoriae. the practice of erasing images of the Damned. Of wiping them so completely from existence that not even people who knew them personally can prove they existed.Unless they had a memento. Something to hold onto.





	You Don't See The Way He Looks At Me. (Claudia - He's Ten Years Old.)

**Author's Note:**

> obviously my backstory for Stiles isn't compliant to this fic, because Stiles is at least ten when she died in canon and I should really add a non-canon compliant tag to that fic (which, in my defense, I wrote before seeing That Episode and so didn't actually know how old he was) 
> 
> For some preamble, Theo wasn't kept in the sword forever. He was put in the sword, and then the pack had him locked away in Eichen because Scott couldn't rationalize forcing someone to stay in hell, it'd eat away at his conscience, at least I think it would. And Hell is a cruel and unusual punishment anyway. So basically, Theo is in Eichen, and is around when the Wild Hunt come, and, you know, because of the whole 'erase images of the damned' thing, they take him instead of Alex and his family (look, I just don't like the canon, Wild Hunt, the motivation of taking 'bad' or 'doomed' people is way more interesting and fits better with the whole Damnatio Memoriae thing they brought up in season four, which was supposed to relate to them but didn't end up doing that at all because, well, let's just be real here, Teen Wolf has always had shitty writing for plot-type things. Its characters are great and have great potential and it's good for the downtime stuff, and the drama, but plot? Nahhhh. )

When Stiles wakes up in the Train Station, the first thing he does is curl his fingers tighter around his keys. 

Then, after a moment, Stiles looks around. He sees Peter first, and the memories start flooding back - who had bitten Scott, the alpha before Derek, why Stiles had such a conviction about not being a werewolf in the first place (Stiles refuses to be  _anything_ like Peter Hale, because Stiles knows intimately just how similar they could be if Stiles let himself) who was the Benefactor behind Meridith's plan, who the first person Stiles had had a hand in the death of was - 

Fuck. He burned alive a burned man. Yikes. Stiles is usually pretty petty, but that's a bit more hardcore than he tends to aim for. Stiles thinks back, remembers the night, and is almost surprised at his own anger. 

But not really. The man had broken his promise. He'd started hurting people other than Kate - and, wow,  _fuck,_ Stiles had made  _a deal with the fucking psychotic Alpha_ to just  _let him murder someone so long as he didn't murder Scott (and Stiles hadn't made any real stipulations regarding anyone else, now that he thinks about it-)_

Fuck, no, Stiles is not touching  _that_ with a ten-foot-freaking  _pole._ Ever. Even one that's on fire. And made of mountain ash. 

(Stiles is petty. He's never claimed anything even remotely close to being better than that.)

Stiles sees Theo second, and  _fuck_ if the last few months don't make  _way more freaking sense._ God. How could he not have noticed someone who'd had such an effect - two people who'd had such an effect - on his life and the lives of those around him was just  _gone?_

But he had. Stiles had had the feeling something was off for  _months._ Stiles had found himself using a particular parking lot more than he had previously (and, wow, that was a fucking significant event in his life, how the hell had he not realized that was just  _gone_ ) and he'd found himself way too angry at fucking nothing - sitting in his jeep, visiting the hospital with Scott (who frequently went to give his mom food and Stiles always, always was uncomfortable and wanted to leave immediately and kept on staring at the elevator and wow, Stiles thought that had just been about the Nogitsune but _nope,_ nope times ten - it had been about  _carrying a fucking dead body through the hospital with the guy that had killed the previous occupant of said dead body who, by the way, was covered in blood, and Stiles wasn't much better because Theo - the asshole - had gotten blood on his hoodie when they'd yelled at each other against the fence -)_ , staring at the  _fucking wrench_ (which, to be fair, he had a good reason to stare angrily at but honestly? Not that intently and not that often, it was a  _fucking inanimate object-)_

Stiles had to force himself to breathe slowly, calmly, in and out at a regular pace before he works himself up into either punching Theo repeatedly or having a panic attack, neither of which would be very useful routes of action right about now. 

"Fuck this shit," Stiles grumbles to himself - the old lady next to him seems aware enough to gasp at that but Stiles could not give any actual fucks - as he stands, and storms over to the older psycho, mostly because Stiles knows Peter could have killed him a tonne of times and isn't it fucked up, that Stiles actually trusts  _Peter Hale_ more than someone, whoever that someone happens to be?

 _Fucking_ Peter  _goddamn werewolf zombie_ Hale. Who is a complete creeper, and mind-raped a teenage girl. Stiles will  _literally_ always hate him for how he hurt Lydia. Even if he doesn't like her the way he used to, their bond is stronger, now, as a friendship. It's less obsessive on his end, which is honestly a very large plus. Which basically makes Stiles hate Peter even more if that's possible. 

"Peter," Stiles demands, snaps. "Peter.  _Peter Hale,_ you fucking asshat,  _wake up."_

Peter blinks up at him, vaguely aware of his surroundings. 

Then he seems to see Stiles and sighs. Put out.

"It  _had_ to be you." The man states. Stiles blinks at him then dismisses whatever he'd meant by that. "Not just me," Stiles responds, irritable. "I'm sure you'll get along with Theo nicely since you're both psychotic assholes that want Scotty dead." Stiles nods to Theo. "I'm going to wake him now. Try not to go into another coma, yeah?"

Stiles ignores Peter's growl and wanders over to Theo.

"Theo.  _Theo."_

Theo's reaction is more immediate - his head snaps up and his eyes find Stiles' much faster than Peter's did. 

"Stiles?" Theo asks, bewildered. "The one and only," Stiles says, dryly. "We're not in Kansas anymore, by the way.

"You've both been here a few months," Stiles tells them. "Three, for you, Peter."

"I was gone for  _three months_ and nobody noticed?" Peter demands, and Stiles cocks his head at the guy because he almost,  _almost_ sounds hurt, which is, Stiles might add,  _fucking hilarious._

After the shit the man pulled, who the hell would want to remember him? 

Certainly not Stiles, and Stiles is going to ignore the fact that for the last few months, Stiles appeared to be the only one who knew something was wrong. 

"And me?" Theo asks, standing. His voice cleared up faster than Peter's, and he seems more himself than ol' Uncle Creeper does. "Two," Stiles says, frowning. 

"And," Stiles adds, turning to Peter, "You were  _literally erased from reality._ Nobody could notice you were gone because you had never existed in the first place, dumbass."

"So you've been erased too?" Theo asks. " _Yes,"_ Stiles says, annoyed. "Great deductive skills there, Raeken."

Theo rolls his eyes at him and Stiles sneers in his direction, momentarily. 

"Now  _that's_ a lot of angry mixed-emotions," Peter states, amused, as-fucking-always. "I sense history."

"This  _asshole,_ " Stiles snaps, gesturing to Theo, "Actually succeeded where you failed, for like, five minutes."

Peter raised an eyebrow and took an assessing glance at Theo. "He killed Scott?" Peter asks rhetorically, and at least  _someone_ here can pick up on dialogue cues properly. 

Ugh.  _Peter Hale_ can pick up on his dialogue cues. Gross. 

"Yes," Theo says, and the fuckwad's  _proud,_ of-fucking-course he is, what did Stiles expect, really. "Not permanently," Stiles tacks on, tone snide. "And then he got his ass sent straight to hell and then shoved away in Eichen where we all promptly forgot about him. Gladly and wholeheartedly so."

"That's a lie," Theo says. "You literally visited me, like, twice."

"To gloat," Stiles dismisses. "And belittle." 

"Petty," Peter comments, and he's amused again, fucking christ. 

"Never said I wasn't," Stiles responds, tone dry. "Now where the fuck are we?" Stiles asks him because Peter's been here the longest. 

"I don't know," Peter says. "Beacon Hills doesn't have a train station - which begs the question of where and how my dear nephew found a train, but I digress - so we can't be there." He tells them.

" _Fucking perfect,"_ Stiles says, faux-gleeful, "Just  _great._ So we're stuck in a train station that doesn't exist - what, waiting for those cowboys to show up again and do... what, exactly?"

"I'm waiting for my train," Peter says, and his tone is distant. 

"Uh, no, no you're not, what the fuck, Peter." Stiles rolls his eyes. 

"I'm waiting for my train," Theo adds, and his tone is distant too. 

"Do I actually have to punch you again?" Stiles demands of him, irritable, and that snaps Theo out of whatever trance he'd been in, or whatever the fuck. 

"I let you punch me," Theo rolls his eyes. "That's not happening again."

"Well fuck you too," Stiles grumbles. Theo hadn't exactly put up - really any semblance of a fight, to be fair (begrudgingly so, by the way) so Stiles won't deny that. Alas. 

Peter raises his eyebrow at Theo, who shrugs at the older wolf. 

Ugh. _Werewolves._  (Though the complaint would be _chimeras_ in Theo's case.) They probably heard something, or smelt something, or generally sensed something Stiles can't because he's not one. 

And won't ever be one. Stiles refuses on principle. 

(It... wouldn't be a good idea to give him that much power. Also Stiles is one-hundred percent certain his meds wouldn't work, and though Liam seems to be handling life well enough, Stiles is ADHD and Anxiety riddled and he doesn't want to have to deal with that without meds, which,  _fuck,_ because that's most definitely going to be the case for the foreseeable future.)

Peter raises his eyebrow at Stiles, this time, and Stiles scowls at him. 

"You're anxious," Theo notes. Stiles glares at him, too. "If you hadn't noticed," Stiles says, faux-calmly, "I happen to be anxious  _literally_ all of the time, thanks for pointing it out," He adds, mildly. 

"I'm guessing you don't have any Adderall? Or Xanax?" Theo continues. Fuck him and his stupid first-hand knowledge from the fourth grade, and fuck him just in general. 

"Again, well done, Captain Obvious, for pointing that out," Stiles grumbles, and drops down onto a mostly empty bench, and leans back, already tired. 

"It might be best to stay standing," Peter notes. "Fuck that," Stiles rolls his eyes. "If I stay standing I'll start pacing. I don't wanna waste energy."

"That seems out of character," Peter muses. "But alright." "You should stay standing, though," Stiles says. "You're a wolf, you can handle standing up for the foreseeable future. And you don't wanna go into another coma, right?"

Peter glares at him, doesn't say anything in response. He moves away from the bench behind him, though, and that speaks more truth than the man's words ever would. 

"So what now?" Theo asks. Stiles shrugs. 

"We get out of here," A voice says - the only other person on the bench Stiles is sitting on. Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin, but he manages to at least appear calm on the outside as he turns to the guy. He raises his own eyebrow at the dude. "That seems unlikely," Stiles says. "I doubt that you know any better than we do," Peter drawls at the same time. Stiles resolutely ignores him. 

"What's your plan?" Theo asks. 

"The tunnel is a gate." The guy starts. 

* * *

 

The guy dies trying to get through the portal in the tunnel. He's scorched alive - a burning green light than turns him to ash, and then nothingness. 

"We need another way out," Stiles says. 

"There isn't one." Peter snaps, and rounds on him. "There is  _no way out,_ don't you get that?  _We're already forgotten,_ Stiles!"

" _Someone_ will remember me," Stiles says fiercely, rounding on the other man - because Stiles is an adult now. Eighteen. Hey, he lasted longer than Allison. If you told younger Stiles that, well, first he'd freak about Allison then he'd probably laugh in your face because, well, younger Stiles didn't exactly have the most optimistic views on his own likeliness to live through all this shit. 

"Scott, Malia - Lydia's a banshee, that's gotta count for something. My dad,  _someone."_ Stiles steps closer, gets up in the guy's face, and says, coldly, eyes hard and  _terribly_ amused - "But you?  _Nobody would **ever** come for  **you."**_

Peter steps back, and there's an almost palpable hurt on his face for a moment before it's gone. But Stiles saw it, and there's a dark vindication in that - and Stiles knows there's an almost-snarl-smirk pulling at his lips, but he can't help it.

Stiles gets cruel when he's scared. When he's angry. And  _especially_ when he hates someone. This is the culmination of all three at once. 

"Not even your own daughter noticed something was missing," Stiles added, rubbing salt in the wound. "Not the guy you ruined the life of, either. Scott never once batted an eyelid, even though you've tried to kill him."

"And you?" Theo asks, and that stops Stiles in his tracks, momentarily. "Out of all of them, when it comes to this sort of thing, you're the smart one," Theo says, steps closer to him, and Stiles can't step back because, well, then he'd be  _way_ too close to one Peter Hale for anyone's comfort. "You notice things. Little things. Inconsequential things that most people miss, like mismatched signatures, the lies people can tell without lying.

"You knew," Theo says, confidently, like he believed Stiles would just know something like this was happening, even when no-one else would. "You knew not to trust me, you were smart enough for that. You knew something was missing, I know you did."

There's a glint in his eye that Stiles doesn't like  _at all._

And Stiles does the only thing he can think of when backed into a corner like this - he lunges at Theo. 

Theo laughs when Stiles tackles him, laughs when Stiles punches him in the nose - on the bridge, not the point, that hurts like a bitch - and  _breaks it,_ laughs while Peter pulls Stiles off and Stiles struggles against the werewolf's restraining grip. 

"Pull yourself together," Peter nearly growls, and Stiles stomps on his foot, but the werewolf holds, and Stiles' struggles peter out (haha, how relevant, Stiles is a comedic _genius_ ) after a moment. 

Peter seems uncertain of whether or not Stiles will go back to attempting to beat Theo into a bloody pulp (or not), and Stiles frees his arms from the man's grip (it doesn't help Stiles' mood that the only reason he's able is because Peter doesn't actually care all that much if Stiles does), once again irritable and frustrated and angry and practically vibrating with unspent violent energy. 

Theo stands, cracks his nose back into place and smirks at Stiles like he's the one who won there.

He probably is. Stiles didn't exactly prove him wrong by punching him in the face. 

Stiles glares at the asshole, and storms off.

"Where are you going?" Peter demands. "There's nowhere to go!"

"Trying something we haven't," Stiles says, irritable. "And I'll  _find_ somewhere if it's the last fucking thing I do, so fuck off."

Stiles rubs a hand through his hair - a hand that's shaking, he belatedly realises, and after noticing that he stuffs both hands into his pockets even though he's pretty sure the other two have already noticed, damn them - and strides off towards the doors.

He tries each and every single fucking door, his brain hyper-focusing rather than in all places at once because it does that, sometimes, and it's fucking helpful on occasion (except for when it's not, like the time he inexplicably wanted to know everything there was to know about male circumcision), and this is one of those occasions, because it means he doesn't actually have to think about why he punched Theo, because that was, admittedly, a complete and utter overreaction on his part. Stiles didn't even know what Theo had been trying to say, aside from the weird amount of compliments. 

On the last door - because it's always the last door - stiles tries, he spies a lock before he moves to open it. Stiles doesn't have a paperclip or a bobby pin or what have you on him right now, annoyingly, because he lost everything in his pockets (Stiles once learned how to unlock a pair of handcuffs with either impliment from someone he'd not been supposed to talk to, like, at all, and he's a generally paranoid person and in this life, the one with supernatural threats at every left turn, well, he likes to at least attempt a sense of being prepeared for shit) so Stiles glares at the lock for an unspecific amount of time before sighing. "Assholes!" Stiles calls out, not too loud but loud enough for werewolf and chimera ears to hear. "There's a locked door, and I can't unlock it. Get over here and help me."

Peter's the first to arrive, so Stiles stares at him until he sighs and breaks the lock. "Thank you," Stiles says, "That wasn't so hard." He adds, "Now, was it?"

"Just get in the room, Stiles," Theo says, appearing out of nowhere like supernatural creatures always like to do. Stiles glares at him before he turns and enters the room. There's a radio, and Stiles grins, giddy.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Theo asks, and Peter is aiming another raised eyebrow in Stiles' direction. 

"There's a radio in my car." Stiles says. "And my dad has a police radio in his. If we send out a transmission, someone's bound to get it."

"Nobody has your car." Peter points out. "And you have the keys." 

"Then we need to get the keys across the barrier," Stiles says. "So one of you is going to have to cross it."

There's a pause. 

"I will," Peter says, and Stiles turns to him, shocked, surprised. "Really?" He asks. 

"Yes, really." Stiles blinks at him rapidly. "Okay," He lets out. "But you know-"

"I'm going to burn up horribly and might not survive?" Peter smirks at Stiles. "You flatter me with your concern. But I've been burned alive  _twice_ and come out of it relatively unscathed, so I wager I'd be better at surviving than either of you would." 

Stiles gives him that. It's only been twice, so it's not a pattern - and since this is their collective best hope, he fucking demands the goddamn  _universe_ that it ends up a fucking pattern. 

"Fine." Stiles agrees. He takes his keys out of his pocket - the same ones that Peter had crushed all that time ago - and Peter takes them, after looking at them for a moment, seeing the way that they're not quite straight anymore. 

"You're the one who nearly broke them," Stiles grumbles as Peter takes them from him, still smirking. "Y'know I have to use a screwdriver more often than not because of you?" Stiles demands.

"Resourceful," Peter smiles - like, actually fucking smiles, and it's super weird. Weird as  _fuck._ "I knew there was a reason I like you." 

And then the fucking creep is gone from the room so Stiles can't retort with his - as always - witty and clever rebuttal, and it's Theo's turn to raise an eyebrow at him. 

"Oh, fuck off." Stiles snaps, and turns to the radio. He has some practice with one of these, but not much - it's different from the police one he keeps in his car, and he needs to make sure he understands it before he tries anything, because he'll only get the one chance.

"Need any help?" Theo asks. "No," Stiles responds, tone clipped. "Go help Peter. Be the distraction."

Stiles doesn't expect Theo to nod and leave, but he does. After a moment - Stiles refuses to admit that he watches Theo leave because that's kind of weird - he turns back to the radio and leans over it, and attempts to figure out what all the knobs and switches do.

 _You're the one who always figures it out._ Lydia's voice echoes in the back of his head. 

She's a banshee. She's used radios to find people before, he's pretty sure. Heard the voices on the wavelengths. And isn't an erased person basically dead, in all the ways that matter? 

_So figure. It. Out._

Stiles gets to work. 

* * *

 

"He got through," Theo says, after entering the room quietly. 

Stiles hums, noncommittal. "Maybe," Stiles says.

"It wasn't the same as with the guy," Theo says. "He didn't burn up completely. He screamed and disappeared."

"Not exactly a good sign." Stiles comments. 

"But a sign of something," Theo counters. "How's it going with the radio?"

"I got through," Stiles says. "But no-one was there. I'll try again. And again. Until someone is."

* * *

It takes five more tries and the both of them have decided it's probably safer to camp out in this room than out there anyway because the Wild Hunt can't spot them in the crowd that way - until Stiles gets through to someone.

"Stiles?" Lydia says, and he's never been so glad to hear her.

"Yeah," Stiles breathes. "Yeah, oh my god, yes, It's me."

"And me," Theo pipes up.

" _Stiles,"_ Scott says, appearing like he hadn't registered Theo's words for a moment. "... who else is there?" He asks, confused sounding.

"Oh, nobody." Stiles says, nonchalant. "Just Theodore Raeken, the asshole that ruined our lives and literally killed you for a bit there."

"... Oh." Scott says. 

"How can we be sure it's you?" Lydia asks. 

"How can  _I_ be sure it's you?" Stiles retorts, "We've just gotta trust it is. Both of us."

"The last thing you said - " Lydia says, quickly - "I love you, that was the last thing you said."

"Yeah," Stiles nods, even though they can't see it. "I love you, I love my dad, I love Scott, I love Malia, okay,  _just try and find a way to remember me."_

 _"_ _Stiles,"_ Lydia breathes, relieved.  

"We're gonna get you back, Stiles," Scott says, in that determined true-alpha voice of his. 

"Please do." Stiles nods again, uselessly. "And quickly. We stay here any longer - the Wild Hunt might, you know, think we'd be good candidates."

Theo glances at Stiles for his use of the plural. Stiles doesn't look at him in return. 

"Your keys" Lydia rushes out. The connection is getting more like static by the second. "We found them in the woods - we're looking for where they came out because the rift-" She's cut off by a large bit of static, and when it cuts back, it's Scott's voice. "So that's the plan," He says, rushed. "We gotta go, okay, Stiles, but just - hold on, and whoever's there with you, just - stick together, okay? We'll get you out of there."

Stiles reflexively grimaces, face scrunching up at the prospect of 'sticking together' with Theo Raeken, of all fucking people, but he nods, then agrees verbally.

The radio cuts off before he gets his agreement out, though. Stiles sighs, and leans against the contraption, and resists the urge to hold his head in his hands and just kind of stands there, wallowing. 

"We've got to concentrate," Theo says. "Or we might end up zoning out."

Stiles glares at nothing, but Theo's right. He sighs and straightens up, then turns to Theo. "So what do you suggest?" He asks, dryly. "Play catch?"

"Not exactly possible," Theo returns, smiling slightly. Weird. "But it would work, if we could."

"Don't you have something on you?" Stiles asks, irritable again. 

"Nope." Theo shakes his head. "If you remember, I was stuck in Echo - Eichen house when we last spoke."

"Echo House is shit," Stiles finds himself sympathizing, which is gross and uncalled for and Stiles must be really fucking lonely to do that weirdness. Just great. 

"That why you visited?" Theo asks, and he's still smiling, weirdly. Weirdly smiling. "No," Stiles rolls his eyes. "Why the fuck would I visit you because of the fact that Eichen House is practically a death trap?" Stiles asks, rhetorically. "Don't be fucking stupid. No, I visited because I'm petty and I wanted to gloat."

"At least you're aware of your own faults," Theo smiles, the way he'd done back when they'd watched over Josh's dead body and Stiles had  _fucking joked_ about his 'punishment' for killing a person, about how he wanted to do the whole 'watching over the dead body of the chimera which the guy sitting in his passenger seat had just killed'... _thing_ , what the fuck was Stiles on at the time,  _Jesus Christ._

Stiles kind of wishes he hadn't remembered either of these people, because apparently, he was at his shittiest and shadiest around them, which is just - fucking great. Stiles hates the universe. Vehemently. 

"Someone here has to be," Stiles retorts. 

_That I'm a stalker, huh? That I'm crazy? Totally paranoid? **None** of this is new information!_

Stiles grimaced at the memory and looked away. All of them - all of the memories with Theo or Peter in them felt weirdly fresh, still, like they'd just happened. 

And there was a surprising amount with Theo in them - apparently, they were friends when they were kids, before Scott showed up in Stiles' life and after he stopped seeing Heather regularly because she moved and changed schools and his mother was getting too ill and his dad forgot to arrange for them to see each other. 

Heather's parents had tried, Stiles is pretty sure. But they gave up, eventually. 

And then Scott showed up. And things changed. 

"Stiles." He hears, and Stiles snaps his attention to Theo, who's frowning at him. "I wasn't waiting for a train, if you're wondering," Stiles says, dryly, and Theo does actually relax his frown at that. Whatever. 

"Then what were you thinking about?" Theo asks. 

Stiles has only got a fucking weird-to-say answer to that, so he just shrugs. "The past," He says, vaguely. Theo nods. "The memories you've just got back?" Theo asks, and Stiles sighs as he rolls his eyes. "Yes, obviously." Stiles snaps. His legs are tired but he doesn't want to sit down, doesn't want to relax because if he does, then he might fade out, and Stiles doesn't want to fade out, doesn't want to be unaware of what's happening and what his body's doing. What the person across from him is doing, because Stiles still doesn't trust the guy  _at all._

"You're tired." Theo notes. " _fucking obviously."_ Stiles snaps back, irritable. Not sleep-tired, just bone-tired, tired from standing up for so long and tired of worrying about whether or not he's going to die here and tired about wondering if his friends are actually going to remember him or if he's just going to be stuck, forever a lost soul waiting for a train that will never come. 

"Then sit down," Theo says, and Stiles stares at the other young adult like he's lost his head. "No," Stiles refuses. "How about you sit down, or I'll interrogate you more about the fact that I know you knew something was off." Theo offers, smirking. "Either you talk to me and spill your secrets or you sit down, I'm good with either."

"Fuck you," Stiles snaps and leaves the room because honestly, he'd rather the company of the people on the benches to this asshole.

At least they don't piss him off deliberately and then laugh weirdly about the violent result that tends to have. 

* * *

It takes Theo an hour, maybe, Stiles wasn't counting, before the guy comes out of the room and sits across from him on another bench. Stiles is glad for the distance for reasons he doesn't quite know. 

"I have something we can do," Theo says. 

Stiles would be stupid to ask, but Stiles decides being stupid for once is better than being bored. Alright, Stiles always decides being stupid is better than being bored, that's how he got into the whole supernatural mess in the first place, but whatever. Semantics. 

"What?" Stiles asks, warily. Theo smirks at him. "Truth, truth, and lie."

Oh. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. "Why exactly are we playing a drinking game without alcohol?"

"To pass the time." Theo shrugs. "I mean, I'm bored. It must be hell for you."

Stiles will admit his leg's been bouncing the whole hour and his mind has been wandering way too much and he's a little antsy and, okay, his ADHD really doesn't like this whole sit around and do nothing situation, fine, Stiles will admit that, but - whatever. Fine. He'll play the stupid game.

"Fine." Stiles shrugs then leans back onto the bench. "Why not."

Theo smile-smirks. Stiles sighs. 

"I'll go first," Theo says, leaning back, mirroring Stiles' position. "Something easy. My favorite drink is actually just water, I like rock music, and I hate the color blue."

"The first is a lie," Stiles says. "You're a weirdo that likes grape juice in non-wine form."

Theo smirks at him. "Correct," He says. "But wrong drink. My favorite drink is actually just any type of smoothie, really."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Alright." He says. "Whatever."

"Your turn." Theo prompts. 

Stiles sighs. "I like the color red, I'm not the hugest fan of MacDonald's, and I don't like snakes."

"The last one's a lie." Theo rolls his eyes. "You had a boa constrictor when we were kids."

Stiles shrugs. "My turn." Theo starts. "Slightly less easy."

Stiles can't be bothered. He doesn't want to let this get to the point where Theo's saying anything personal, because that would mean Stiles would feel obligated to do the same, and the last time Stiles shared anything even remotely close to personal with this asshat, namely the whole Donovan thing, it blew up in his face.

"Yeah, that's all we're doing." Stiles interrupts him. "I doubt you wanna end up having to say something about your sister, that you murdered." 

"Oh really?" Theo asks. "How about no. I regret what I did to my sister, I care about two people, and I have an issue when it comes to power."

Stiles stared at him. Alright then. "The second one," Stiles says. "You only care about yourself."

"Right about the lie," Theo says. "Wrong about the true version." Theo doesn't extrapolate, and Stiles is glad. He doesn't want him to. Mostly. Okay, Stiles is a curious kind of person, he can't help but be interested in knowing things that he doesn't know. 

"Why didn't you think it was the first one?" Theo asks. "Doesn't that contradict your true version for the second?"

Stiles shrugs. "She was family," Stiles says. "'Yours'. Even you have to care at least a little about that. Even if you didn't care one whit about her as a person."

"Interesting theory," Theo says, allowing but not agreeing. Stiles shrugs again. 

"Your turn," Theo says. 

Stiles isn't revealing anything about himself this asshole, even if Theo just kind of did that to him. 

"I wasn't aware for most of the nogitsune possession." Stiles starts. "I hate you for killing Scott, and I miss Heather."

"Easy," Theo says. "The first one. You wouldn't have reacted so negatively to what I said that night if that was the case."

"... Right on both accounts," Stiles says, begrudgingly. 

"It was too easy." Theo retorts. "C'mon. Say something that's difficult to say. I can't exactly judge you for it."

_I won't judge. Promise._

_It didn't matter to me._

Stiles glares at Theo, heatedly. "Fuck off," he says. Theo blinks at him, confused, and Stiles stands, walks over to the radio room and shuts the door behind himself, leans against it and slides down.

It's all Theo's fucking fault that they ended as shittily as they did, it's all Theo's fucking fault all this shit happened in the first place - telling about Donovan, the lies, the manipulation - and Stiles is sick and tired of the guy because he just - he knows exactly what to say to get under Stiles' skin and make him itch to punch something and that's not Stiles, not really, but he's just - he makes him angry, and Stiles wants to be as far from the kind of angry that Theo makes him as is possible by anyone, human or supernatural. 

But he can't. Because they're stuck here, for now. Together. Unless Stiles wants to make small talk with the other Lost ones, he's got nothing and nobody else to distract him, aside from the stupid, static-filled radio across from him. 

Fuck this shit. Stiles stands and walks over to the radio, and attempts to contact Scott and Lydia again, even though he knows its futile. 

* * *

 

Theo walks into the room a not insignificant amount of time later, and Stiles glares at him because a decade would be too soon for Stiles in the whole seeing this asshole's face again department. 

Theo doesn't say anything about earlier though. He just stands near Stiles (but not next to him, thankfully) at the radio, and stares down at the contraption.

"Any luck?" He asks. "Nope," Stiles replies, fiddling with another knob and trying again. "It's like the frequency keeps switching or something," Stiles grumbles. "Like it gets clear for a moment and then static-filled silence takes over again."

"Frustrating," Theo comments and Stiles makes a frustrated, annoyed, and angry agreeing noise as he fiddles with a few switches. 

"Take a break," Theo says, looks as if he's about to reach out or something equally stupid so Stiles steps back, reflexively, which of course moves him away from the machine, which is what Theo apparently wanted in the first place. Great. 

"I can't," Stiles says, annoyed. He just doesn't get it - if Stiles sits around doing nothing useful his anxiety is going to start mounting, it really is, and Stiles would rather avoid any and all panic attacks without Scott or his Dad to help out (he hadn't wanted to make Lydia feel bad, but what she'd done was like, the complete opposite of what you're supposed to do when someone's having a panic attack. He's honestly surprised he didn't keel over and need carting to the hospital) or even Malia, if she'd feel comfortable despite everything, and because he'd helped calm her down enough that maybe she'd understand how to do the same for him. 

"There are other things we can do," Theo says. "Like what?" Stiles asks irritably, question mostly rhetorical. "Run around like headless chickens trying to find another door that doesn't just lead back into the station but actually lets us into somewhere else?"

"Maybe," Theo says. "Or we could distract ourselves."

"With what, twenty questions?" Stiles asks, sarcastically. "No thanks."

"Well, at least you're tired," Theo says. "You could sleep."

Stiles laughs. Properly. "That's stupid." He says. "That's a fucking stupid idea and you know it."

Theo snaps out, "Well, I can smell your anxiety from out there, alright? And it won't help us if that gets out of hand, so I'm trying to help, here."

"Your help is shit," Stiles says, bluntly. "Just fuck off.  _Your presence_ isn't making things even slightly more bearable. It's actually doing the complete fucking opposite."

Theo's lips twist momentarily before he nods, jerkily, and leaves the room. 

Stiles feels vindicated for all of ten minutes, and then the silence settles in. 

* * *

The radio starts up, and Stiles can hear voices coming from it. Stiles stands, immediately, and moves towards it - Theo is through the door in seconds. "Stiles?" He hears, and it's Malia. Stiles nods, rapidly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here," He says. "The asshole's here too."

"Hey," Theo says, mildly. 

"Oh. You." Malia sounds flat and annoyed, which means she remembers Theo. "Well," She dismisses Theo's presence, "We found the place your keys came out. But it's just in the middle of the woods, there's no like - anything around there."

"Maybe underground," Stiles says. "Have you tried underground?"

"Not yet," Malia says. "That's what we were going to try next. But we got caught up in Canaan and it took us a week to get back."

"A week," Stiles says. "How long have I been here?"

"Two months." She says, and her voice is starting to grow static-y. "Nearly three."

"Let's try and stop it from becoming three," Stiles says. "Please, if we can."

"We'll do our best," Malia says. She hesitates, and Stiles can't hear what she says next through the static. "Hopefully next time we speak will be in person," She adds, to whatever she'd said, and the sound cuts off into static before Stiles can say goodbye. 

Stiles swallows. 

"Now what?" Theo asks. "We wait," Stiles says. His voice is almost hollow, and Theo looks at him, assessing. "Alright," He says, and when they go back into the station, he sits next to Stiles, instead of across from him. 

Stiles can't be bothered to complain. 

* * *

It takes a while for the gate to change into that blinding white rift, but change it does. Stiles can hear voices - Lydia, Scott, Malia, his Dad - but Theo doesn't seem to hear anything. Stiles doesn't much care about that little fact, because Theo can see the rift, and so can everyone else still left here. 

Stiles is the one it was made for though. Will it last after he goes through?

Stiles doesn't say anything about that. Theo seems wary about the possibility, maybe, because he's moving towards the rift at the same pace as Stiles, likely intent on going through at the same time. 

"This better work," Theo mutters, and Stiles laughs. "I think I will have that panic attack if it doesn't," He says and pushes into the light at the same time Theo does. 

Then, everything goes  _white._ And  _god,_ but it ** _burns._**

* * *

When Stiles wakes up, he feels groggy and raw and he's in the middle of the fucking preserve, because of course. 

Something's wrong though. Something's different. Stiles glances around, and frowns, because - oh, his fucking luck. Stiles stares at the nemeton, the empty of dead bodies dead tree, stares at the ground around it... the intact ground that hasn't collapsed in on itself, hasn't buried the cellar underneath, and Stiles gets a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Stiles walks over to the nemeton and sighs at it. This thing has been the cause of all their troubles for the last - forever, really, Stiles figures - and he wants to blame it, honestly he does, but it's just a fucking tree. A death and destruction causing tree, but just a tree. 

Stiles thinks causing a forest fire just because he wants to get rid of it might be a bit like overkill though, and he doesn't have anything to start a fire with on him anyway. 

Stiles hears movment on the other side of the clearing, and he spots a shape stumbling through the darkness. He doesn't say anything to it, because he doesn't know what or who it is yet, because Stiles has shitty night vision due to, you know, not being a werewolf. 

"Stiles?" The voice says, hoarse, and oh, great. It's Theo.

"Yep." Stiles returns, and his voice sounds dry, unused. Stiles coughs. "It's me," He says, and that's a little clearer. 

Theo moves over towards him, stands across from him at the other side of the nemeton. Stiles sighs and thinks 'fuck it', and sits down on the evil tree, facing away from Theo because he just doesn't want to deal with that guy's bullshit right now. 

Theo ignores that wish and moves around the stump to sit near, but not next to, Stiles on the tree. Stiles looks at him, and he can see him better at this distance, but it's still not great. Stiles won't be able to read Theo's expressions, though Theo will be able to read both his and his scent and all that jazz, and that's honestly really fucking frustrating. Stiles dislikes this situation a fuck tonne more than he should, really, because it's not that bad as far as he can currently tell (minus the sinking feeling in his gut) because Stiles just isn't in a good mood at this point. 

"We could camp out here until someone finds us?" Theo offers.

"Are you fucking joking," Stiles snaps. "Seriously?"

"Well, we know it's safe enough," Theo argues. "The Nemeton can't be found by most people. Only by the people it wants to be found by."

"It doesn't seem to like me very much," Stiles responds. "So, like,  _no."_

"Technically," Theo says, "You sacrificed Donovan to it, so..."

"Oh,  _fuck you."_ Stiles spits out, but he doesn't move, because he's angry, really fucking angry, but he's just too damn tired. 

"And I technically sacrificed Josh," He continues, "So it shouldn't hate us too much."

"Well, I literally sacrificed myself to it, so I guess there's that," Stiles says, falsely cheerful, and pats the fucking tree stump like it can hear what they're saying. Maybe it can. Stiles doesn't claim to be an authority on ancient evil dead tree gods. 

"You did?" Theo asks. "Yes," Stiles rolls his eyes. "Didn't you read that in the dossier?"

"There wasn't a dossier," Theo rolls his own eyes in response to Stiles' snark. "Just things I could gather through rumour. We did a lot of reconnaissance before I spoke with you - not as much as I'd have liked, but I couldn't pass up the chance Belasko gave me." Theo admits. 

"So you didn't hear that story? The one about our crazy English teacher?"

"No," Theo says, amused. "No crazy English teacher came up. But you did. That's how I knew about the nogitsune."

"Great," Stiles sighs. "There's a supernatural grapevine, and I'm on it. Wonderful."

Theo smiles slightly - Stiles can only tell because he's squinting at the guy to try and see his expressions, to gauge his reactions to things Stiles says. 

"Stuff like that gets around," Theo says. "There are other supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills that actually do manage to lay low. There's a whole family of werecoyotes with kids in the year above Liam at BHHS."

"Oh." Stiles blinks. "Well, they're fucking lucky." Aren't they just. Getting to live here without nearly being murdered on a regular basis. 

Theo hums. "We really should get some sleep."

"That would be stupid." Stiles sighs. "But if you wanna sleep on the evil tree, I'm not gonna stop you."

"We'll take turns," Theo says. "I'll sleep for a bit. You wake me. You sleep for a bit. I wake you. Rinse and repeat."

"It's still stupid." Stiles snaps. "Just - look, follow me."

Theo doesn't say anything in response, but Stiles doesn't really care if the guy follows or not. Stiles moves away from the nemeton and looks about - it takes a few minutes of searching, but Stiles finds the root cellar.

"Gotcha," Stiles says. 

"What is it?" Theo asks. "Shelter that shouldn't be here," Stiles says. "Which isn't good, but is useful, for now."

When Stiles gets down there, he spots a jar he recognizes. There's a fly in it and Stiles freezes. "Well?" He hears, and Stiles moves out of the way but doesn't go anywhere near the jar.

"What is it?" Theo asks him, and follows his gaze. Stiles feels close to sick, but this horrible situation is still somewhat safer than just being out in the open.

"Nothing," Stiles says, and Theo doesn't push. 

"Wake me," Theo reminds Stiles, and Stiles has no intention of doing so. Theo settles in for sleep at a decent distance away from the jar, which is good. 

Stiles keeps his eyes on the jar and doesn't let up in his vigil for the rest of the night. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is apparently my 40th story on this site, which is cool, I guess. :)


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